Parts of Him
by xoxonceuponamidnightdrearyxox
Summary: Come what may she'll never love again. A one-shot in 8 parts. Regulus/Ms.Zabini
1. Regulus&Alessandra

_They're a farce, a sham. _

_He's a filthy rich boy that has always had exactly what he wanted when he wanted it, and she's a poor girl, a year younger than him, with a pretty face and nothing else. Their only bond is that they're both purebloods and they prefer to make love in the dark – because if they see each other in the light they're afraid of what they might see._

_She'll see a man who's lost himself to the darkness. His haughty features marred by death, his grey eyes glinting with the pain of knowledge, and a black skull burned into his arm._

_And he'll see a girl, not a woman, a little girl that holds the essence of beauty and yet understands none of it. He'll see adoration in her eyes, adoration and love – two things he can't bear – because no one should love a marked man._

_So in silence and darkness they tumble; for him, it's emotionless and unfeeling, a release from the pain, an escape from reality. For her, it's the ability to touch the shadow of something she could never – in reality – hold._

_But then it breaks. _

_Then it becomes real._

_Then the little world they've created in silence and darkness shatters like a pane of glass – because in the darkness, with his damp curls clinging to his face, he brushes his lips against her ear and murmurs-_

"_I love you."_

_And she begins to hope, begins to think that maybe, just maybe they're more than a sham. All of the tears she's cried over him seem non-existent and she can smile, because he said it, so he must mean it. Stupid, stupid little girl she is. _

_The next day he's dead._

_DeadDeadDead, there's nothing left except her. A poor, little, seventeen- year- old girl who has no one in the world, nowhere to go, and nothing left inside because she wasted it all. She was foolish enough to believe in Regulus-and-Alessandra; she opened her heart to what she knew was nothing more than a lie._

_And now she's facing reality – cold, hard, painful reality._

_Now she's learned her lesson._

_Come what may, she'll never love again._


	2. Zabini

**I.**

She knows she's captured him the moment he smiles at her for the very first time. She knows he's dead as soon as she walks in the front door of his mansion.

He has a certain grace about him, even though he's thirty years older than she is. And he has an inherent sort of handsomeness about him - with his dark skin, high cheekbones, and long, brown slanting eyes. And he's a pureblood. That's why she chooses him. She takes his name for her own –"Zabini_" - _and with him has her son, Blaise, and she makes sure it's her name in the will, and then she slips poison into his tea.

It's not about the money. No, not the money at all. It's about revenge - because _he _was wealthy, too. And sure it's spiteful of her to take out her anger on him, but he's just one in a greater purpose. A greater purpose that is _seven - _because seven is the most magical number and seven is the most powerful number, and she will defy _him_ seven times.

When they come to take away his body, she's clutching onto her baby boy and sobbing fat, messy tears. And they don't even question her because she looks so distraught, and she's being so helpful by yelling out the names of all his enemies. In the end they put a business associate in Azkaban, but by then she's moved on.


	3. His Eyes

**II.**

He has grey eyes. The gold is a bonus, but the eyes are what make her pause and flash a winning smile at him. The rest of him is pretty unremarkable – red hair that might as well be orange and pasty skin – but he has grey eyes, grey eyes that look so much like _his. _

Three days later they're married.

Truth be told she does plan to keep him around for a little while. Six months at least, maybe even a year, because she does adore his eyes.

But Blaise doesn't like him, and that just won't do.

Three days later he's dead, she tells the man who comes from the Magical Law Enforcement office that she didn't know he was allergic to strawberries – amidst tears – she doesn't mention that she waited until he was dead to call for help.

Still, she does regret that at his funeral his eyes are closed.


	4. Little King

**III.**

Blaise is seven when, on Christmas Eve, he tells her he wants a new daddy for Christmas and not a racing broom. And since it's such a simple request, and she doesn't like to see her little angel looking so sad, she finds him a new daddy.

He's rich, a pureblood, and he calls Blaise _"little king"_. For him it's just a joke about the way his mother treats him. For her it's so much more.

Because _Regulus_ means little king too.

She kills him in a rage, and promises her son another one the moment they get back to England so that he'll stop crying.

Because no one, _no one, _calls her son Regulus.


	5. Black Curls

**IV.**

He approaches Blaise, hands him a piece of candy, and starts talking to him like an equal. And then, once he's sure he has the little boy wrapped around his finger, he convinces the seven -year -old to introduce him to his mother.

And so he does.

He's handsome enough, he's wealthy, Blaise likes him, and he has black curls that fall to his shoulders just like _him,_ so she marries him with the clear intention of taking his life before the third month.

He lasts longer than the others because her son likes him a little _too _much. Three years to be exact. And he does start to grow on her, but sometimes not even Blaise can have everything he wants and she refuses to risk any sort of attachment. So in a fit of tears she tells him how terrified she is for Blaise if something were to happen to her _dear_ husband.

In a matter of seconds he signs away his vast fortune.

Really, she does go overboard with him – posing him as if it was a suicide, with a note and everything. She makes sure that the ten- year -old is out with friends when she walks in the doors of the mansion to her husband hanging from a chandelier.

Blaise doesn't forgive her for at least a month.


End file.
